mother’s dementia
articulate her emotions has slipped. And so, as I listen to and look at her carefully, I can see her loneliness and also its swift departure at my approach.
“You look so nice today” means, thirdly, “I need help in a host of ways I cannot understand or give voice to, and you are just the one to give it.” My mother’s situation — like so many struggling with dementia — goes far beyond loneliness. She was a world traveler who is now confined to one small wing of the care center. She told stories rich with laughter and love, but now has trouble remembering any of the faces and places so familiar through years of storytelling. She walked and biked and swam her way into her 80s but now, on the verge of her 90th year, moves falteringly with the help
When I come, day after day, to sit with and walk beside her, Mom can sense — through my presence, my care, my love — the much deeper presence, care and love of her Savior. My faith is not as deep, as rich, as strong as Mom’s. But it does not matter. I come. I share who I am and I give what I can — and it is enough.
Sometimes I am asked, “What can we do for residents in retirement communities and nursing homes?” Sometimes pastors will ask me, “How can we do ministry with our elder parishioners living with dementia?” And sometimes I will hear family members say of their parents and grandparents, “They are no longer the person I used to know, and I have no idea what to say to them anymore.”
“I didn’t know how lonely I was until you showed up and all my loneliness went away.”
of a walker. I share my travels with her, bringing the world into her little room. I remind her of her stories. And I walk beside her with my hand upon her back, willing a little strength into weary muscle and sinew.
“You look so nice today” means, finally and most fully, “You remind me that I’m not alone, and with your presence I can hold onto my faith that Jesus — though unseen — is right here with me, too.” Mom’s faith is as rich and fertile as the North Dakota prairie where she was born. But life holds many surprises that test and try one’s faith, and the onset of dementia is surely one of those difficult surprises.
To each one I have only one thing to say, one simple statement that combines the entire wisdom of my pastoral and personal experience. I say,
“Show up!” Just show up. If you don’t, nothing else matters. When you do, there is no telling how God might use you.
The Rev. Greg Wilcox, vice president for mission effectiveness and senior pastor for the Good Samaritan Society, has been the primary caregiver for his mother, Billie, since she moved five years ago from Good Samaritan Society – Kissimmee Village in Kissimmee, Fla., to Good Samaritan Society – Sioux Falls Village. After living on her own for many years, Billie began experiencing issues with her memory. After falling and fracturing her pelvis, Billie’s memory slipped significantly. Good Samaritan Society staff recommended, and she agreed, to move into the special care unit where she currently lives.
W
arning signs of Alzheimer’s disease
• Memory loss that disrupts daily life
• Challenges in planning or solving problems
• Difficulty completing familiar tasks at home, at work or at leisure
• Confusion with time or place
• Trouble understanding visual images and spatial relationships
• New problems with words in speaking or writing
• Misplacing things and losing the ability to retrace steps
• Decreased or poor judgment
• Withdrawal from work or social activities
• Changes in mood and personality
If you notice any of these signs in yourself or someone you know, don’t ignore them. Schedule an appointment with your doctor.
Source:
www.alz.org
The Good Samaritan • 2011 • Vol. 45 • No. 2
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